


Big Spoon

by impalawinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:32:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14107416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalawinchester/pseuds/impalawinchester
Summary: Gabriel knows that Sam's stressed, so he gets him to bed.





	Big Spoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiteralCancerTM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteralCancerTM/gifts).



> this one's for LiteralCancerTM, hope you enjoy :)

Sam was stressed out, that much was clear. 

He’d been researching for days on end, struggling to find a lead, a way to Asmodeus, a way to Lucifer, a hint of any kind of solution to his long train of endless problems. Even Dean couldn’t bear his self-inflicted suffering. 

At first, the older Winchester had sat his ass across from Sam, digging through the Internet and the archives for information, barely eating, drinking little, and only leaving the library to snag some beef jerky or take a piss. 

But even Dean grew weary, and, unable to continue the frustrating search, had showered and retired to his bedroom in early evening, the fourth day of research. 

It was eight o’clock and Gabriel was still sitting near Sam, racking his brain for a way to get the stubborn sasquatch to get some sleep. 

He considered resorting to his old trickster ways, but he was weak, and doubted that Sam would appreciate any one of his attempts at comedy. Besides, using up his angel mojo would be more than detrimental in the long run. It could be fatal. 

So how could the mischievous angel get Sam to bed without materializing a pretty girl (guy?) or luring him with a trail of moose treats? 

If it was Dean, Gabriel would have left him be and gone off to indulge himself in the minimal sweets the Winchesters kept stocked. But Sam had always been different. Sam had remined him of a certain someone, but damn him if Sam ever found out about his weak spot. That he always went against his better judgement with Sam.

I mean, how could Gabe help it? Sam was a fine human specimen. Those long limbs – compared to Gabriel’s vessel’s short ones – that floppy hair that Gabe would absolutely love to tug at, and those wonderful, beautiful lips? Gabriel might have visibly shivered if he wasn’t so exhausted. 

And again he remembered: how could he get Sam to take a break and catch at least one night’s sleep?

“Samsquatch, I can’t let you do this,” Gabriel finally said in a singsong voice, arms crossed, lips pressed together, leaning his chair on the back legs.

“Can’t let me do what?” Sam answered, not glancing up from the pages, hardly even registering a question was asked or that he was responding to it. 

Gabe gestured to him in exasperation, eyes wide and when Sam met them, he offered an 'isn’t it obvious?' look.

“Listen, I have to figure out what Asmodeus is after and I need to get through this lore…” he trailed off, but then his gaze flashed up to the archangel. 

“And you could offer some information, you were with him long enough,” he snapped. At least Gabe got him to speak. And besides, the irritation was all lack-of-sleep induced and pure frustration. Nothing to be petty about.

“Samsquatch, the big man kept me tied up in a cell. I didn’t know squat.” Sam rubbed his face, huffed. 

“Quit calling me that,” he eventually said, and returned to research.

“How about Samshine?” Gabriel tried, leaning forward and cradling his cheek in his palm. “I think it works.”

Sam shot him a bitchface. 

“It would suit you if you’d get some sleep.” Sam offered a hmph, but then continued. He was one stubborn nugget. Gabe loved it. 

“Listen, Sam, I didn’t want to have to do this, but you leave me no other choice,” Gabriel said, brows raised, hand raised about to snap. 

“Gabriel, please, just let me work,” Sam said, but he didn’t turn back to his book. He just sat there, silently begging Gabriel to convince him to go get some shut eye.

Gabriel reached out and rested his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Then he resisted the urge to squeeze because damn that man had muscle. 

“Go to bed, Sam. You’ve done enough. C’mon, I’ll tuck you in.” Sam snorted by smirked a little, and Gabriel resisted the urge to pump his fist in victory. 

The taller man stood and rubbed at his face again, stretching out his arms above his head and finally giving in to a yawn. 

“Let’s go, Sasquatch. Off to bed.” And with that he shooed Sam towards the hall, but before Sam disappeared down the corridor, he sheepishly turned around and asked, without looking the angel in the eye: 

“Could you bring me some tea and an aspirin?” Gabriel gave him an overly zealous, reassuring smile. 

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks, Gabe,” Sam mumbled and continued on. Gabriel had to remind himself to breathe again – the Winchester had called him Gabe? 

He then proceeded to remind himself that he was heaven’s most terrifying weapon, he was fierce, he could endure torture, he had wings, damn it – yet he found himself skipping off to the kitchen to boil water for Sam’s tea with a stupid grin on his face.

The kettle finally whistled, and by then Gabriel had gathered aspirin, a glass of water, and some leftover pie from Dean’s last food run. Sugar made everything better and the angle didn’t have to be a trickster to know that. 

So he brought the items to Sam, who was sat on the edge of his bed in a clean pair of sweat pants and a tee short plugging in his phone to charge for the night. 

“Order up,” Gabriel said and offered Sam the aspirin and water first. Then the tea which Sam eagerly tried to drink too soon, and, after a bitchface, Sam dug into the pie. 

Gabriel couldn’t help but watch in awe as Sam let down his guard. He never thought he’d live to see the day. How far they’d come from Sam stabbing him multiple times with that useless stake. 

“I’ll be in the library, if you need me,” Gabriel told the younger Winchester. He tipped an imaginary hat and started to leave, but not before Sam spoke again. 

“Gabe? I mean, Gabriel? I, uh, just wanted to ask you, I mean, I know angels don’t sleep but maybe if you want to, um…” He trailed off, blushing like a schoolgirl, and Gabriel waited for him to get it out, smug grin on his face as he watched the man struggle. 

“If you would stay here tonight?” Sam forced out, eyes darting around the room.

“Samshine, it would be my pleasure.” Sam nodded, smiled a little, and quickly swung his legs into bed and moved over so Gabe would fit. 

When both were settled, a little awkwardly side by side, Gabriel finally said. 

“No one’s ever called me Gabe. Not even my father.”

“Yeah, well, no one calls me Samshine.”

“Or Samsquatch?” Gabriel affirmed. And with a chuckled, Sam nodded. After another quiet moment, Sam rolled over to face the archangel. 

“Everything’s gone to shit since you’ve been gone. Dean and Cas and I – we can’t stop it. Something else always ends up getting in the way,” Sam admitted. Gabriel rolled over onto his side to face him. 

“The earth is still in once piece. You’ve got that going for you.”

Sam sighed. Smashed his eyes shut.

“I’m tired of fighting.” His voice cracked a little at the end, his shoulders were drawn in, jaw tense. 

“Well, now you’ve got me.” Gabriel hated to see Sam in pain like that. But he thought he knew how to fix it, if only for a night. 

“Turn over,” he instructed. Sam blinked at him in confusion for a moment, then did as he was told, curled away from Gabriel. Gabe took a deep breath, asked the God who wasn’t listening to help him out, and he slid up behind Sam, pressing himself against the length of the Winchester’s body, arm tight over his waist.

“Let someone take care of you, Sam,” Gabe said into Sam’s back. 

And with that, Sam relaxed into Gabriel’s arms and within minutes was snoring softly as the archangel held onto him, for once feeling at peace.


End file.
